


Letters That You Never Meant to Send

by justlook3



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlook3/pseuds/justlook3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely night prompts Jack O'Neill to write a long overdue letter to his former wife and reminds him that there is a future waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters That You Never Meant to Send

**Author's Note:**

> More old fiction from me that was previously archived elsewhere. This story has a mention of the episode "Brief Candle" from season one. I am unclear exactly when I wrote this story but I refer to Carter as Major so it must have been set around season 3. All of my fiction was written prior to season 5. This story seems to have first appeared in "Gateways #2." I have a feeling this was the original draft of the story but my memory is good but short!

_Home from war_ , he mused as he pulled into his driveway. The house was large, isolated, and very, very dark. The only sign of life was the tiny porch light which served more for decoration than any security purpose.

He grabbed his bag from the seat next to him and headed toward the door.

"Hi honey, I'm home," Jack O'Neill called wryly. No one answered, of course, except for his own voice bouncing off the empty walls.

He clicked on the hall light and let his bag slide to the floor as he headed toward the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he checked the contents. Some leftover Chinese that had been in there longer than he cared to think about. Some wilted lettuce he had never touched. Salsa, ketchup, mustard, . . .. pickles? That was different. Funny, full supply of beer. Sara would not have approved.

 _Don't go there_ , he silently warned himself.

Uncapping the beer with his bare hand, he wandered into the living room in search of a phone book and the wonders of take out. It was so silent he could hear the floorboards creaking and the foundation settling. Why hadn't he ever noticed just how **big** the house was?

Huge and empty. Why did he buy a house? He could have gotten a nice apartment or a condo. Maybe in one of those singles places with the pretty twenty-something girls lounging around the pool. Nope. He wanted to be alone. Out here on the edge of town where there weren't many neighbors and those that were there didn't get in your business. With a nice flat roof perfect for the mounting of a telescope and no light pollution to get in the way of stargazing.

But this place, this place was so **empty**. He hadn't even gotten a dog to keep him company. That was because he kept putting it off to tomorrow until he'd been called back to duty, and there wasn't any time for a dog anymore. Damn.

He shivered. It was cold in here. He threw a log in the fireplace and grabbed the box of matches off the mantle. For once, the fire lit the first try. He stared into the flames, bringing some warmth into the otherwise cold living room.

He let his thoughts stray back to the house he and Sara had shared. Sure, the house was older, maybe a bit small. But it had been comfy. Full of life. He could see it now.

_On leave sitting on the couch waiting for Sara and Charlie to get home. Charlie racing into the house scattering baseballs, his school bag, gum, possibly a toad or two._

_"Dad!!!! You're home!!!"_

_"Charlie, I told you no running in the house," Sara's voice could be heard from the doorway, "Jack, you're home!"_

_"Surprise!"_

_Laughter, there was always laughter. Charlie's loud childish laughter, Sara's golden laughter._

 

_BANG!!!!!_

 

Jack jumped off of the sofa, his daydream shattered by the sound of the gunfire which had brought that life to an end.

When he came to his senses, he realized the sound was a car backfiring on the road.

"Damnit!!" The phonebook fell to the floor, the idea of dinner abandoned. So was the beer, in favor of something stronger. Getting up and gazing into the liquor cabinet, he reached for the bottle of whiskey in front. Then he stopped mid-reach as he heard a voice in his mind.

 _Do you really think you can just drink it away? Because it's not going to go away, not like that._ Sara's voice was sad, not as angry as he remembered it.

Jack closed his eyes and pushed the voice out of his mind. He grabbed for the bottle and a glass. His hands shook as he poured the first shot.

Why was it burning his throat? Or was it something else? He finished the whiskey in two long swallows. He grabbed for the bottle and a second drink. Why did he see her face in front of him, her eyes full of sorrow?

He closed his eyes again, trying to drown out the memory. Two swallows, both of which stung like hell.

He stopped, contemplating the tumbler in his hand for the longest time. Then he raised it, contents and all, and hurled it into the fireplace. He watched the glass shatter into a million pieces, and the flames of the fire flare as the alcohol provided fuel for the blaze. The bottle had been hurled so hard it exploded into a shower of little pieces, the flames jumping out of the fireplace and onto the carpet, sparking a small fire.

"Shit!" Jack yelled as he jumped up from the couch with a pillow, intent on smothering the flames.

By the time he was finished, the pillow was pretty much ruined. The carpet, well the carpet could be better. That was really, really stupid. That bottle cost fifteen bucks. He was going to miss it.

He realized he was sitting by the phone. What the hell, he could really use someone to talk to. He dialed the number.

Then he got the dreaded busy signal. He waited a few minutes, tried again, still busy.

"Damnit Daniel, get call waiting!"

He tried another number. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to the person at the other end of the line, but he figured it would be better than sitting here talking to himself.

The phone rang a few times. Then the machine picked up:

_Hi, this is Sam Carter. Please leave a message after the beep, and I'll get back to you._

Jack hung up the phone. What was he going to say? Hey, Carter, the house is feeling too empty, and I felt like listening to you talk about physics for an hour? She'd probably think he was losing his mind. Carter was his teammate, someone he trusted, but somehow he never felt comfortable baring his soul to her. Hell, he didn't feel comfortable baring his soul to anyone.

He thought about calling Janet. Maybe he could take her and Cassie out to a movie or something. Janet was always cool about him practicing his parental skills on Cassie. He shook his head, remembering Janet had taken a two-week leave. She and Cassie had probably gone to visit Janet's family in Georgia, and they wouldn't be home.

Teal'c didn't have a telephone.

Hammond wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy.

 _Man, I seriously need to get some more friends_.

He thought about going back into town, maybe going to the sports bar and seeing if there was a game on. But he really wasn't in the mood to drive anywhere, at least not if he was going alone.

One last person to call. He stared at the phone, wondering if he really wanted to make the call. Lightly he ran his finger over the keys, before he realized it dialing the one number he never completely forgot.

"Hello?"

A long period of silence.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"Hi," he managed to say.

"Jack? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just um, um, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Jack."

"That's good. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Well, actually, I was on my way out to do some shopping, but if there's something you need . . .."

"No, I guess . . .. Well, Sara, I . . .."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Um, nothing. I just wanted to say hello. You go have fun."

"Okay. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, just fine. I just wanted to . . .." His voice trailed off as he whispered, "hear your voice."

"Huh? I didn't catch that."

"It's nothing. Bye, Sara."

"Bye, Jack."

_Smooth, Jack, real smooth._

His stomach rumbled, reminding him he still hadn't eaten anything. Jack got up and headed to the kitchen for his stack of carry-out menus. On his way back into the living room, he tripped over his bag he had just tossed on the floor. Cursing slightly, he bent down to retrieve the spilled contents of the bag. A small pad of paper caught his eye.

The only thing written on it was "Sara."

_Argos._

When he thought he was going to die, he tried to write to Sara. The words he had trouble saying out loud he had an even harder time trying to put down on paper.

He picked up the pad and sat on the couch, picking up a pen from beside the phone. At first, he just started to doodle in the corner, staring blankly at the pad, his thoughts elsewhere.

Before he even realized it, his thoughts started taking some sort of shape on the piece of paper in front of him.

 

_Sara,_

_If you get this letter, it probably means I'm gone. When the bumbling guy with the glasses, the blonde Major with the way too serious expression, and the solemn tall man wearing the goofy hat come to bring this to you, don't ask them too many questions about what happened. Just know that they cared about me, and if you ever need anything, you can just ask them._

_No, I'm not suicidal again. Yeah, I was suicidal once right after Charlie died. But you knew that, didn't you? I can't be sure. Everything about that time seems like a dream now, a horrible nightmare I can't wake up from. I do remember the anger. It seemed like the whole house was so full of anger. It was so hard to breathe._

_I couldn't breathe, Sara. That's why I left. I just couldn't breathe any more. The weight of it all. Your anger, my anger, your grief, my grief, the emptiness, the loneliness, and the gigantic pit we fell down. I couldn't breathe._

_God, this is the point where I always stop and rip this letter into little shreds. I'm not making any sense. But this time, I swear I'm going to finish this letter. Did I ever make any sense, Sara? Did you always think I was slightly nuts? Probably._

_You probably also think I didn't care about how you felt or how you were hurting. You're wrong, I did. I just didn't know how to deal with it. So like the massive idiot I am, I just shut you out so I didn't have to deal with your pain too. I sometimes wish I could have. Maybe then we'd still be together . . .._

_What ifs. You know I hate what ifs. I don't like to dwell in the past. There's no point to it, you can't change what you've done. And I've done so much, Sara, so many things that have hurt people. I hurt you. I hurt Charlie. I hurt people I don't even know, don't want to know. But you don't need to know about all of that. It's best that you never know._

_It's best that you don't know where I've been these past years. Or even why this odd group of people is coming to visit you now. But there's something I need you to know._

_You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I've loved you for a long time. Maybe that's the problem. Loving you became like breathing to me, too much of a habit. I took you for granted._

_We've moved on. We can't go back. I'm not sure if I even want to. There's far too much water under the bridge to use a cliché that my dad used to use. We're not together any more, and it's for the best._

_But I still love you. Will always love you. My last thoughts will be of you. I need you to know this._

_There are some things in this cigar box that I want you to have. They'll give it to you. Please make sure you keep in touch with them, if you need anything, anything at all, just ask Daniel._

_Take care of yourself._

_Jack_

 

Jack looked down at the pad of paper. He carefully tore the sheets off of the pad and looked at them for a long time.

Then he stood up and walked over to the fireplace. He started to tear the sheet in half but stopped.

_Not this time._

He rummaged in his desk for an envelope. Carefully folding the letter up, he placed it in the envelope. Then he wrote _Mrs. Sara O'Neill- to be opened after my death_ on it. He opened the locking drawer and slid the envelope inside.

Then smiling he walked over to the telephone and dialed a number.

Finally, an answer!

"Hello?"

"Hey, Danny-boy, about time you got off the phone! What were you doing, surfing for rocks?"

"They are not **rocks** Jack."

"Okay, okay. Hey, want to get something to eat and catch a flick? We could go pick up Teal'c and take him into town. Carter, too, if she ever answers her phone."

"Jack, is there something wrong? You sound funny."

"No, why would anything be wrong? I do need to ask you to do something for me, but that can wait."

"Okay, if you're sure. Dinner and a movie sounds good. That is if you're paying."

"Don't I always? Tell you what; I'll be over in ten. See you later."

"Bye, Jack."

Jack went to the fireplace and extinguished the fire. Then he grabbed his coat and his car keys and flipped out the light, leaving his empty house and going toward the light of his friends.

The End

 


End file.
